Tuesday, September 25, 2012

The Fashion Train

There was no mistaking him. I knew from clear across the store that we had a celebrity in Da Howse. While my coworker was enabling helping another customer, I greeted him. He said he'd been in a year ago and loved our mix of clothes and antiques. Me too, Carson, me too. He was polite and pleasant but not as outgoing as the guy you see on t.v. I left him alone and when he wandered my way again I asked him what he was in town for, had he sampled some barbeque, could he spend a couple grand so that it looked like my stellar selling skills were back. I made that last part up.

He was impeccably (and I do mean impeccably) dressed. Dark straight jeans, shirt and tie, plaid jacket. A fashion standout in the shopping district of Cowtown.

And what did the woman who sells clothing wear that day? Was I wearing the J. Crew black dress that I feel like a million bucks in? I got it for $6.00 at a garage sale...that's why I feel rich in it. Or the blue silk dress with the chunky exposed zipper? Or the jeans and heels that make me look ten pounds lighter?

No. No. And no.

I wore my grey linen pants that stretch and grow by the second, a white shirt that was acting up like the pants and my eight hour grandma shoes.